


Chocolate and Cream

by fleete



Series: Mating Games 2013 [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Sex Work, Sex Worker Lydia, Sex Worker Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:57:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleete/pseuds/fleete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ll give you the number of a facilitator.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate and Cream

**Author's Note:**

> **content notes** : restraints/bondage, fisting, slight dubcon (of the heatfic variety)

Erica eyes Derek’s flaccid dick with open disgust.

“This is never going to work,” Derek says. He heaves a diva-like sigh and starts pulling on his pants. “I just think of you more as a sister.”

Erica stares. “Well that is super-duper sweet of you, Derek, but what the _hell_ am I supposed to do while you’re off thinking of me as a sister? Spend my heats in unendurable agony?”

Derek grimaces and fumbles over to the desk and pulls out a pad of paper. “I’ll give you the number of a facilitator.”

“A facili— oh. You mean a whore.”

“No,” he says, scribbling a name. “I mean a facilitator. They help people who are related to their packmates. I used one back when Laura was my Alpha.”

He thrusts a piece of paper at Erica’s face. _Stiles_ , it says, and a phone number.

“He’s good,” Derek says. “Just tell him you’re in my pack, and you want a full-day appointment.”

Erica blinks. “ _He_?” She cocks her head to one side and re-evaluates some assumptions she’d made about her Alpha.

Derek fucking _blushes_. Well.

Erica gazes down at the paper with new respect.

*

“Stiles” is a creamy little thing with bronze-colored eyes and moles down his neck that make it look like someone spilled chocolate sprinkles on him. Derek is _never hearing the end of this_ , Erica decides through the haze of lust.

“Hmmm,” Stiles murmurs as he fastens the restraints at her wrists and ankles. “You look a little farther gone than you said on the phone. Something get you going?”

Erica swallows with a click. She’s naked and laid out flat on some cross between a massage table and a butcher board. Her cunt feels swollen, hot. “There was a…a woman in the waiting room.”

Understatement. There’d been a motherfucking goddess in the waiting room, all red hair and red lips and thighs so white they could probably replace Erica’s recommended daily value of dairy.

Stiles grins knowingly as he begins rubbing oil into his hands. “That would be Lydia. She owns the place.” He takes in Erica’s face, considering. “Actually. Would you like her to join us?”

“Um.”

“Pretty sure she’s free for the next hour. I’ll go get her.”

“Um.” But he’s already out the door. Even the thought of that woman in here is too much; Erica closes her eyes and groans into the shift. Her claws itch as they extend, and her mouth waters around her fangs.

She drifts for a moment.

“Well look at _you_ ,” she hears. “God, sometimes I think Derek picks ‘em just to please me.”

Um, what? Erica opens her eyes to ask exactly how many members of her pack have come here, but the woman—Lydia—is peering down at her thoughtfully while stripping off her bra. Her breasts have just enough weight to drop and swing when she does it, and her pretty pink nipples make Erica moan out loud.

“You like tits, huh?” Lydia looks delighted and licks her pointer like she’s going to turn a page…and then paints a wet circle around Erica’s right nipple.

“Fucking fuck _fuck_ ,” Erica gasps, arching off the table.

“Oh that’s good,” Lydia croons, and god help her, Erica is even turned on by that condescending voice. “Let’s start there. Stiles, give her a couple fingers.”

She’d nearly forgotten about Stiles; he appears on the other side of the table and slips two long fingers into her cunt. And then proceeds to…do nothing.

Erica growls. “Need more.” She’s open enough to take an Alpha knot, for god’s sake.

“Gotta pace yourself, sweetie,” Lydia says, and draws painstakingly slow, slick swirls around Erica’s nipples. Erica’s spine liquefies in a hot little stream that bottoms out in her pelvis, and it’s too much, too much, when Lydia suddenly sucks a nipple into her mouth. Erica’s first orgasm of the night goes through her like a punch.

Lydia hums proudly. “Excellent start. Stiles?”

Stiles, it seems, has slipped all five fingers inside Erica when she was coming. She watches him brace his other hand against the table, and his biceps and shoulders flex—

“Oh holy hell,” Erica whispers. That’s a fist. Stiles has his _fist_ inside her. Erica clenches around it, her whole body a sweet, throbbing pulse centered on Stiles’ hand.

Lydia leans down until Erica can see nothing but eyelashes and lipstick and _smug_. “This is gonna be fun. Brace yourself.”


End file.
